Epilogue

So – what did I learn and discover during my summer vacation?

“Killing Me Softly With His Song” is the national anthem of Albania… maybe not officially, but I swear that you can’t sit in a café or restaurant anywhere in Albania without hearing it, and for the rest of my life I’ll think of my first mission as an elections observer whenever I hear the heartbroken voice of Roberta Flack circa 1972…

It’s good to be Liberal… to walk the streets of Vienna, Baden Baden, Mulhouse, Lyon and Paris and see street signs for “John F. Kennedy Platz” and “Boulevard President Roosevelt.” Somehow, the names Ronald Reagan and George Bush were conspicuously absent…

It’s good to be Canadian…to be an English-speaking tourist who doesn’t have to answer for a foreign policy that is almost universally seen – from Albania to Austria to Germany to France to Turkey – as being… well… use you imagination…

It’s good to be exposed to unfamiliar and unexpected surroundings… to sleep in places you normally wouldn’t sleep, eat foods you normally wouldn’t eat, use Turkish toilets you normally wouldn’t squat over, and to “rely upon the kindness of strangers…”

It’s good to “get off the plane” as a friend has described it – to take advantage of the unexpected opportunities that life presets us with…

With luck, I’ll be able to participate on an OSCE mission about once per year – and although I seriously doubt that I’ll turn every opportunity into such an extended vacation, I can’t imagine turning down a chance to volunteer as an elections observer again.

Thanks for reading - and keep in touch through info@perceptualmotion.net

SPB

Home Again

Well, I finally made it back to beautiful Gig Harbor, Washington after a 21 hour journey from Vienna to Copenhagen to Seattle.

Here's a travel tip - if you're ever going to be the victim of a delayed flight, do so in Copenhagen.

It's a very nice airport, with some excellent places to eat and some very lavish stores in which to do duty-free shopping.

It's clean and roomy and airy and comfortable, and has those nice hardwood floors that somehow just seem to say "welcome to Scandinavia..."

It has plenty of European newspapers in every language imaginable - plus English - and has very helpful staff that either speaks your language - whatever that happens to be - or can find someone else who does.

It has plenty of bathroom facilities, and they don't make you pay to use them.

It's well laid out and organized.

In other words - there's nothing French about it.

Of course, I'd rather not have a delay - but if they really want to change out one of the engines on the Airbus that's going to carry me across nine time zones, I'll wait a few hours for them to do so.

The flight itself didn't even feel like it took ten hours, the service was so good - Scandinavian Airlines flying westbound seems to be just as nice as Austrian Airlines was flying eastbound. I got three fine meals, saw three good movies, and had dozens of music channels - all no-charge, even sitting in the cheap seats at the back of the plane.

Plus pretzels!

Of course, there was the seemingly inevitable glitch at the end of the trip...

Somehow, I'm beginning to think my backpack doesn't like extended over-water flights...

Remember how it managed to go missing somewhere between New York City and Tirana, Albania?

Well, once in Europe it managed to stay with me for an entire month - from Tirana to Shkodra to Tirana to Vienna to Baden Baden to Mulhouse to Lyon to Courchevel to Lyon to Vienna to Istanbul to Vienna to Lyon to Paris to Vienna...

And then, somewhere along the way from Vienna to Copenhagen to Seattle, it went missing again...

That's right!

I arrived in Seattle, but my backpack didn't!

I'm sure all of my compatriots from "Team Shkoder" are laughing with sympathy on hearing this news - though somewhat relieved at the knowledge that I won't be wearing the same shirt for five days this time.

So - Old Town Bicycle teamies, you'll have to wait just a bit longer for all that great swag I promised you...

Everyone else - you'll have to wait just a bit longer for your special gifts from the exotic wilds of Albania and Turkey.

I do, however, have several hundred digital images to sort through - and will be sending those out shortly.

One more post to come later...

SPB

Vienna Waits For You

After a latenight departure from Paris on Sunday, a 15 hour rail journey brought me to Vienna and the flat of my "old friend" from the OSCE Albania mission - Marie Allegret, who generously offered me a comphy spot on her livingroom floor for my seeping bag.

Marie is a Frenchwoman who studied at the London Schoo of Economics and has expatriated herself to Vienna - where she makes a living at home by trading options on the American stock markets. It makes for an interesting life, considering Vienna is six hours ahead of Wall Street.

Her work day was just about to start when I arrived at her flat, and we spent a wonderful evening discussing economics, politics, our OSCE mission in Albania, life in general, and everything else you can imagine as she kept an eye on her short positions on the NASDAQ while a great early-evening thunderstorm passed by her open fourth-story balcony overlooking a monistary across the courtyard below.

By the time the markets closed on Wall Street, it was time for us to head out for a very late dinner at a typically Vienneese neighborhood restaurant.

Today is my final chance to be lazy in a great Old World, European capitol before beginning my long jet-lag inducing journey back to Gig Harbor, and after so much running around it'll be good to take it easy for a day reading an English language newspaper and people-watching from a coffee shop in the cobblestone-lined pedestrian-only section of the old city.

"Where's the fire, what's the hurry about,
You better cool it off before you burn it out.
There's always so much to do, and only so many hours in a day...

You've got your passion, you've got your pride,
But don't you know that only fools are satisfied.
You're going to kick-off before you even get halfway through...

When will you realize - Vienna waits for you..."

The City of Lights

A rainy morning of people-watching from a streetside cafe in Paris - followed by a sunny afternoon of bike racing on the "Champs."

Well - not really "racing" per se...

I'm not sure how it looked to my OTB Teamies back in "the Harbor," but from the turn-around at the Arc de Triumph it looked like a retirement gift for Lance Armstrong. The peloton soft peddled every lap - at a pace that seemed more forgiving than our Sunday morning ride back to Suzzanes for coffee and muffins and brownies and coffee and cookies...

Bob Cartwright and I could have taken those guys today - at least at the end of the circuit from which I was watching, even after we'd had coffee and muffins and brownies and coffee and cookies...

Speaking of which, did anyone see me on OLN? I was the American without a U.S. or Texas state flag blocking everyone elses photo-ops...

Anyway, it was good to see the real thing up close and personal - I didn't start the day at the front of the crowd - but the slow pace actually discouraged the "how-can-he-be-winning-if-he's-so-far-back-in-the-field" tourists from staying until the very end...

Tonight it's a night train from Paris to Munich, then on to Vienna for a few days before resuming 'a life more ordinary...'

Bis Morgan...

SPB

Tour de Lance

This is going to be quick - I finally found a French internet cafe that's open on a Sunday, but my connection keeps timing out...

Yesterday I saw Lance do what he does best - crush his competition in the Race of Truth, the individual time trial. Of course having a main rival suffer from horrible luck by continually falling off of his bike and getting flat tires helps, but even without the intervening hand of Fate stepping in, Armstrong clobbered the competition.

It's a rainy Sunday morning in Paris, and I'm about to go scout out my location near the Arc de Triumph for today's historic finale...

When I have a better connection I'll tell you all what it was like to spend the night in a four-bed dorm room with three German-speaking Chinesse tourist from Austria...

Trust me - the world is a much smaller place than most of us imagine...

SPB

Saılıng to Byzantıum

Byzantıum...

Constantınople...

Istanbul...

An amazıng cıty... so old ıt has three names... so great ıt straddles the Bosphorus wıth one foot ın Europe and the other ın Asıa...

I spent a few days ın the anıcent sectıon of Sultanamhet - seeıng all of the anıcıent sıtes...

Into the darkness of the cavernous cycterns - created by the emperor Justınıan to hold the cıty's water supply, and made famous ın the James Bond fılm 'From Russıa Wıth Love...'

I sat through the mıd-day prayer at the Blue Mosque...

Yea, I know...

Forget ıt everybody...

That was my once-a-year-trıp to a house of worshıp, so don't anyone thınk about gettıng marrıed or droppıng dead untıl 2006, cause I won't be there for ya...

Shoppıng ın the Grand Bazzare - waıt tıl ya see the stuff I'm havıng sent home...

And I got treated to the ultımate ındulgence - a treatment fıt for a sultan at a 300 year old Turkıs Bath!

Yea, I know...

Forget ıt everybody...

A Turkısh Bath ın Turkey ısn' the same thıng as a Turkısh Bath ın San Francısco - although they do scrub you down 'everywhere' when they bath you, whıch comes after the hot room and the full body massage by a very talented massuse, and ıs followed up by a real shave by a real Turkısh berber...

Yea, I know...

Forget ıt everybody...

Back ın my polıtıcally ıncorrect conservatıve youth, I never would have let ANYONE hold a straıght razor to my throat. But I'm very metrosexual now, and can apprecıate a kınd and skılled gentleman who spends ten mınutes just latherıng my face, and an eternıty foldıng and gently pınchıng my skın to shave off each whısker one by one...

After that, ıt was off to the coast for a few days of cruısıng wıth new-found frıends between the ancıent ports and sheltered coves of the Turkısh Medıteranıan - crystal-clear blue waters and ancıent ruıns the lıkes of whıch I'm not lıkely to see agaın anytıme soon...

Of course, there ıs one bıg downsıde to all of thıs adventure - very lıttle communıcatıon wıth the outsıed world.

Dıd I say there was a downsıde?

I've actually found ınternet cafes almost everywhere - but for some reason the connectıon to the AO-Hell servers from Turkey are sluggısh beyond descrıptıon or reason. I haven't even been able to SEE my e-maıl, let alone respond to ıt - and I'm postıng thıs dırectly through my blog sıte...

So - to antıcıpate some questıons...

Yes - I'm comıng back. Eventually. Probably. I'll thınk about ıt.

No - I'm not spendıng too much money - actually, no more than I was plannıng to spend anyway, yet havıng far more fun than leap-froggıng Stages of the Tour de France (sorry guys)...

Yes - I'm plannıng on headıng back to France to see the Tıme Trıal on Saturday and the fınale ın Parıs on Sunday.

No - not yet - but I wouldn't rule ıt out...

There goes the 5pm call to Mosque - gotta go!

More Later...

SPB

Where in the World is Steve Breaux?

Hello All...

 

Following the Tour de France is an amazing, fantastic experience...

 

But it's also quite tiring - especially when you're going solo and handling all of the logistics yourself, much of it on-the-fly.  It's an on-the-go, all-the-time, if-this-isTuesday-those-must-be-the-Alps kind of experience.

 

So, I've decided to throw caution to the wind and abandon my already loose itinerary for a while.  Several people I've met along the way have extended very generous invitations to hook up with them on their European vacations, and I've decided to take them up on their offers.

 

So, where am I?

 

I'm in a very historic place, even by European standards. 

 

So historic, in fact, it has three different names...

 

Anyone venture to take a guess?

 

SPB

Lance in the Alps

So there I was - high in the Alps at Courchevel 1850, camped out a night ahead of time to claim a good spot for the anticipated day when Lance Armstrong would put the hurt on the competition and reclaim the Yellow Jersey...

First, the journey...

By train from Mulhouse to Lyon, and then a rented car into the mountains - the trains only going as far as Moutier, at the base of Courchevel, and still 30k from the finish...

I'd forgotten how much I enjoy driving in Europe. The French national highway system is one thing they've done close to right. Not as nice as the German Autobahn (but what is), but better than the American Interstate. Yes, it has a speed limit - but at 130kph (plus my customary 10%) - it's a speed limit I can live with. Adopting the French habit of yielding to no one, I managed to fit right in...

Up the switchbacks of Courchevel in a late afternoon thunderstorm - watching cyclists struggle up to the finish, knowing that they're miserably working up the bragging rights to say 'I did it..."

I spend an entire morning hiking high into the meadow-covered ski runs, past 3000 meters - an incredible day in the mountains that was long past due...

In the afternoon, a bunch of us - Germans, Aussies, and a variety of others - gathered around a camper van with a television, watching the race develop as they drew close - anticipating the moment when Lance and company would catch a breakaway...

And then it happened - off he went! You could tell even if you weren't watching the television - by the moaning sounds of "Nein...." "Mein Gott..." and the general misery of the Germans who just knew that it was happening all over again...

By the time Lance came past, he was on fire - making the climb look ridiculously easy. An amazing sight to see... A fabulous moment to experience...

And I think I got "The Shot..."

Gotta run for now...

More Later...

SPB

France... Not So Much...

So, how am I doing so far?

 

Well, Le Tour De France I'm enjoying quite a bit...

 

But France... Not so much...

 

First, there's that language thing I mentioned in a pervious post - and I'm willing to accept all of the fault on that one.  I'm an Ugly American who never took high school French, and I knew that when I came here...

 

But it's really the little things that I'm having a problem with - and a lot of that is really more my having been spoiled by having lived in a neat and orderly Germany for three years a lifetime ago.

 

Example. 

 

They're a bit lax on their schedules here - and anyone who knows me knows that I'm early infinately more often than I'm late, and I really hate to be kept waiting because someone else doesn't know what they're doing...

 

On a German railway schedule, for instance, they post the train number, the time it arrives, the cities it's going to, and the track it'll be arriving on.  All of this is very important, because their very punctual trains typically only spend a minute or two in the station.  Blink and you miss it, so you really need all of this info at the ready...

 

In France, the schedule doesn't include the track number.  Sure, it's a tiny detail - but what the hell, it's not like the train to Lyon is going to be stuck in a holding pattern because of a weather delay and end up arriving on a different track!  I'm catching the 07:13 train to Lyon tomorrow, and I want to know where to be ahead of time...

 

It's the little things... like being turned away from one of the few open restaurents in Mulhouse at 5:35pm because they close at 6:00pm - apparently the French round upwards when closing time is near...

 

The fact that restaurents are closed at all - even on a Sunday - in a nation supposedly obsessed with fine cuisine is something else all together.  Having to eat McDonnald's is bad enough - eating it in France is just wrong...

 

And in Germany, they'd at least offer you some beer with your Big Mac - the French don't serve wine with their Royal with Cheese...

 

Fine French cuisine my @ss...

 

Tomorrow I'm catching a train to Lyon, and then into the Alps to position myself ahead of time to hopefully see Lance retake the Yellow Jersey - maybe even in a breakaway - up Courchevel.

 

Camping in the Alps - it' not likely I'll be e-mailing for a while (in fact, I haven't seen an i-cafe since I've been in France.  They just happen to offer free internet at my hotel).

 

By the way, I was on the left side of the finishing approach at about the 250m mark at today's finish, for any of the guys looking for me on OLN - right on the barricade, and I think I got a good shot of Rabobank's Michael Rasmussen on his solo through breakaway stage win...

 

So Le Tour...  Yes, very much...

 

France...  Not so much...

 

SPB

 

Gee - They sure talk funny here...

I miss Vienna...

 

I miss Baden Baden...

 

I miss knowing what the hell people are saying...

 

In case you haven't figured it out yet - I'm in France!

 

Funny thing is, I hardly remember getting here.  I got on a train, and before I knew it I couldn't understand a single thing anyone was saying...

 

Did I cross a border somewhere? 

 

Going into California from a neighboring state, they make you stop to check if you're bringing in fresh fruit...

 

But here - somewhere along the line - my train crossed the Rhine and...

 

Nothing Happened!

 

No Passport check...

 

No x-ray machines...

 

No taking off the shoes looking of a bomb...

 

No need to chance money, because the Deutsch Mark and French Franc are extinct - replaced by the Euro...

 

I actually feel like a fool for marking off a day on my EurailPass because - I swear to God - I did't even have to show a ticket on a two train journey from Baden Baden to Strassbourg to Mulhouse...

 

Europe Rocks - except for this annoying language thing, and that's just the French insisting on ignoring letters that are there and mispronouncing half of the ones that are left...

 

I'm staying in my first real hotel since leaving home two weeks ago, and it's just a few blocks from tomorrow's Stage finish, where I'll have my best chance to show the Old Town Bicycle team colors on OLN - I'll be the guy standing behind Bob Roll making the hand gestures...

 

More Later...

 

SPB

 

"Those seats were so good - you probably scared the band!"

Rastatt, Germany

Okay, sportsfans - no more politics, no more high-minded enlightened
discussion of philosophy in a late-night European cafe...

It's time for Le Tour de France!

First - to all of the guys and gals of Old Town Bicycle - eat your
hearts out! I'm writing this from an internet-cafe less than 200m from
the Sprint-B line of today's Stage 7 from Luneville to Karlsruhe. I
was pressed right against the barrier on the left side of the road,
right after the sprint line as the road curved to the right - the
optimal spot from which to see the action...

I won't offer race details, since you might be reading this before
watching the video you're taping on OLN...

But "The TdF Experience" is something that should be done at least once.

Think "Mardi Gras on bicycles" - the crowds growing as the time draws
near, the caravan of team and sponsor vehicles tossing swag as they
roll through the barricaded streets...

A truely carnival experience - complete with Jumbotron screen mounted
on the facade of an old church in the middle of town, with a beergarden
set up in the middle of the street.

And yes, I'm wearing my OTB team jersey while grabbing some of that
genuime TdF swag for my teamies. I've already snagged a red-polka-dot
beanie - Erik, Tom and Dr. Jeff can race up Dana to see who gets it...

Tomorrow Stage 8 of Le Tour rolls through the edge of Baden Baden -
where I'm so busy chasing Le Tour that I haven't actually gotten a
chance to 'bad' myself - after which I'm off to Mulhouse to be in a
position to see the finish of Stage 9.

More Later,

SPB

Good-bye Albania - Hello Vienna

Things happened so fast once the election started it was amazing!

Back and forth to watch the counting of the votes - with dozens of
observers from other international organizations in addition to the
OSCE...

A late night wrap-up of the results in my Election Zone - followed by a
wild street party in front of our hotel that prevented anyone from
thinking of sleeping...

The next day - yesterday, July 5th - we had the morning to ourselves to
do whatever we liked, except take an early shower, since there was no
water on most floors of our luxerious $18/night hotel...

I ended up sightseeing and shopping with Carl and Shiripa - who is one
hell of a power shopper, clearing Shkodra out of handbags in ten
minutes flat...

Onto the bus back to Tirana for some street walking with Carl and Joe
to find things to bring back home, and then to the grand reception at
the Sheraton.

Someone had warned me that the end of a mission is a time for hard
choices - go to bed early to rest up for the early wake-up for your
pre-dawn flight out of Tirana, or go to the reception and then stay up
all night - because there's no point trying to have you cake and eat it
too...

I ended up at an incredible rooftop club called "The Living Room" that
had appropriate furnature scattered about and played loud music long
into the early morning hours while hundreds of political junkies
discussed everything you can imagine while killing time before their
3am shuttles to the airport for 5am flights.

I managed to make it back to the hotel with Carl in time to shower and
pack, and say a few quick goodbyes to my new friends in the lobby. I
managed to catch a nap during the flight to Vienna, and had a hard time
going down a separte lane through customs when it was time for me to go
to baggage claim and them to change planes for home - taking a separte
path from people to whom I've grown incredibly close in such a brief
time...

My time in Albania has been a life-altering experience - not because it
was Albania, although a strange environment certainly was an influence
- but because of the people I'd met and discussions I'd had...

So now I'm sitting in the Hostel Ruthensteiner near the Vienna
Westbahnoff (train station), doing some much needed laundry while
typing e-mail on a keyboard that keeps switching into some Asian
language characters.

I'll be up and out later to validate my EurailPass, do some sightseeing
in one of my favorite cities of the world, and then to meet up with
Maria - one of my closest compatriarts from Albania - with whom I'm
having dinner when she arrives later tonight, since she just happens to
call Vienna home.

Tommorow it will be a fast train across Austria and southern Gremany to
Baden Baden and the Tour de France.

SPB

E-Day Albania - Happy Birthday America

Yesterday was Election Day.

It began for me at dawn with the 5am call to morning prayer from the mosque across the street - cutting rythmic, romantic, and hauntingly through the clear morning air into my open window. Let me tell ya - this mosque has a bitchin' sound system...



Then it was outward to observe the voting at some rural polling places - the operation of which could put the old-time Chicago or New York political machines to shame, with a guy at each one that just had to be a local party-boss hand-shaking, back-slapping, cheek-kissing four times left-right-left-right every one of the party faithful who was coming back for the third time before noon to vote...



For my Fellow PCOs back in the Washington's 26th Legislative District - you don't know how good you've got it!

Try canvassing polling stations over an area the size of an entire state legislative district - but first call in the Air Force to carpet bomb the roads, because these roads are shit. Throw in drivers who have no idea of right from left, on roads that don't have center lines - or striping of any kind, for that matter. Just keep the wheels on something that vaguely resembles pavement/gravel/sand/rock and you're doing it the Albanian way - just don't forget the horse carts and goat hearders along the way...



And that's before you leave downtown Shkoder!



From the polling places to the vote counting center for an all-nighter that saw only 1/3 of the votes counted - by Albanian hands, of course. The facility was an elementary school gym, packed with partisan observers from all million-and-one of Albanias political parties.


Think "Social Democrats," "Democrat Socialists," "People's Worker's Party," " Working Peoples Party," "The Nationalist Social Party," "The Social Nationalist Party" and of course the we're-not-dead-yet Communists...




Picture a near riot just getting the ballot boxes admitted into the facility...



Picture their equilivant of a County Auditor - fresh from his office at the Rice & Grain Institute - locking nearly a hundred people in for the night in a facility that doesn't have a bathroom...



Picture convincing the guard with the AK-47 to let you go wandering in the middle of the Albanian night looking for a bathroom - only to find the nearest accomidations about a quarter mile away are a Turkish toilet in an all-night cafe's closet...



Turkish Toilet?



Trust me - if you don't already know, you don't want to. Especially if you recently ate something that just doesn't quite agree with you...



Note to Self: never go anywhere in Albania without Toilet Paper...



But it's all worth it to have an Albanian party-hack wish me a "Happy Birthday America" on the 4th of July - and to have my European colleagues offer America condolances to "Get Well Soon..."



Time for a much needed shower, a few hours sleep, and back to the vote counting center to releave some of the "Usual Suspects..."



Take Care - and Happy 229th Birthday,



SPB

If this is Friday...

If this is Friday, we must be in Shkoder...

On the way out of town our bus of 23 STOs stopped at the Austria Airlines ticket office in Tirana (which was always closed when I had time to visit) and confirmed that my backpack had arrived at Mother Theresa Intl. Airport, Tirana, Albania!

We stopped to pick it up on the way out of town, and everyone cheered as I climbed back aboard the bus with the hefty pack on my back...

Shkoder is as beat up and poor a place as you can imagine, though it also has its charm - which is far more than can be said of our 1800 Lek / night ($18) accommodation at the Hotel Rozafa!

Talk about "Soviet practicality!" Room 412 (of course on the 5th floor, since this is Europe) does have a nice open window view of the mosque, a bathroom that has to be seen to be believed, and no elevator access - though from the look of the long-ago broken lift, I probably wouldn't have trusted it anyway...

Other than that - the word "Spartan" would be a compliment. A mattress that passes for nothing of the sort worthy of the word, and pillows with the feel of a sandbag. No big deal, of course - I've slept with a sandbag for a pillow many times before...

Yesterday was classic. Most of us headed straight to the local castle with our drivers/interpreters - who gave us an excellent lay of the land while we got acquainted in the 2000-year-old fortress that has hosted everyone from the Romans to the Venetians to the Ottoman Turks to the partisan resistance fighters of World War Two.

Our LTOs are wonderful, and had organized a welcome dinner at the Restaurant Enigma (not to be confused with the Cafe Enigma) - a great patio banquet on a rocky outcrop 30 feet above the river...

More classic conversation - this time much of it with Marie, a chain-smoking Frenchwoman living as a day-trader in Vienna, and who has literally traveled all over the world, much of it solo. Ya gotta admire a woman who goes sightseeing solo in Iran...

The conversation along the table covered the entire political gamut - sharing tales of local politics from our homes, national politics of one another's countries, and international politics affecting us all.

On the personal level, it was a wide variety of life experiences - a common thread being that almost none of us lives where we were born, and many of my compatriots live lives as permanent expatriates of one kind or another, with election observation making up an alter life. A common question is "what do you do in your other life?"

We are roughly an equal mixture of American, British and German on the Shkoder expedition - with a few French and Scandinavians thrown in. English is the common working language - though German, French, and Italian are intermixed very freely - creating a verbal mélange that's surprisingly easy to keep up with, even for myself...

Several of us stayed out until well past midnight, since there was a wedding party in the banquet hall adjourning the hotel, and the music was blasting - and continued to do so until about 3am.

We don't have the throngs walking the streets here as in Tirana - were told that stopped locally during the chaos after the financial pyramid scheme collapse in the late 1990s - though this is reputed to be the bicycle capital of Albania, and they do seem to pedal about quite a bit. One of our LTOs - Claudia from Germany - told me the Tour of Albania was not too long ago...

Just think - "I coulda been a CONTENDA...... I coulda been SOMEBODY....."

The real work starts today - Area of Responsibility (AOR) familiarization with our driver/translator, then E-Day tomorrow.

I'm assigned to work as a "B-Team" member with Jorge Friedrichs of Bremen, Germany (though born in Munich...). We'll be at a Zone Election Center (ZEC) watching them count the votes, our official duties not starting until 16:00 and lasting until 08:00 the next morning - though we do plan on going out tomorrow morning to watch some polling stations open and the voting just for fun...

Yes - you know I'm a political junkie when driving around the communes on the outskirts of Shkoder to watch impoverished people execute the franchise is "fun..."

This mission is actually unusual in that they expect us to swap off with the "A-Team" members who will watch the voting. We'll be switching duties on a rotating schedule until...

Well, until all the votes are counted, or until the morning of Tuesday 5 July...

A grueling schedule - but that's what I'm here for. After all, aside for tracking down a lost backpack, I've been on political junkie paradise vacation since I arrived...

It's doubtful I'll get to send another message once the real work begins - the next message might not be posted until my return to Tirana on the afternoon of Tuesday 5 July...

SPB